Daughter of Artemis
by Rikki Roo
Summary: What would happen if Artemis, the maiden moon goddess, had a child? And a daughter, in fact, part of the latest Great Prophecy? Follow Astrid's adventure as a demigod that should not exist.


Well, this is my first fic here. Please give only constructive/complimentary thoughts. Thanks. Also, please review! -Rikki

**Daughter of Artemis - Chapter One**

_Artemis sat on her throne in the night sky. She should have been driving her moon chariot or with her Hunters. Instead she had a strange urge to visit Mason Downing again. Artemis shook her head, confused, and tried to reason with herself. She was a virgin goddess, like Hestia, Athena, and Hera. She was a sworn maiden for eternity. How could she go back on her vow?_

_She sighed and slumped back on her throne, knocking her head on its rest. She understood completely why she was so attracted to Mason; he had lost everything he owned and everyone he loved, yet he still seemed to enjoy life. Or at least, a little more until Artemis had started visiting him. His parents had died of old age when he was twenty-three and his wife and children were killed in a car accident just six months ago. His only living kin were his sister-in-law and niece, Jenine and Desiree Downing. The three of them were living together in a tiny apartment, and they were facing terrible financial problems. Desiree was turning seven in a week, but Mason and Jenine didn't know if they would be able to afford taking her somewhere special, let alone planning a party for her and her friends._

_Artemis took a second glance at the image of Mason in the basin. He was just finishing his handiwork when he stood up and closed his eyes, his face leaning towards the moons. Artemis immediately angled one of the rays directly on his face so he could feel its slight warmth, and maybe the concern she felt for him. Mason outstretched his arms and murmured, "Artemis would love this."_

_The goddess gasped, her eyes fixed upon him. How could he think of her in this despairing time of his life? Artemis had only spent nearly a month visiting with him and going on, as what the humans call it, "dates," and yet he all ready knows her so well._

_She came to a decision, and in the next moment, she was in the park with Mason, standing behind him. "Hello, Mason," she said._

_Mason spun around, his face shocked. Then it quickly turned to glee. "Artemis!" he said with much enthusiasm, and embraced the goddess with a hug. "I haven't seen you in a while, and I was starting to get worried. Your number hasn't been working. Is there something wrong with your phone?"_

_Artemis chuckled. _I don't have a phone, silly human_, she thought. Instead she tentatively reached up and placed her hand on Mason's shoulder. "We should talk, Mason," she said calmly, and gestured to the bench. "And what I'm about to tell you, you must believe me."_

_Mason sat down reluctantly, and Artemis picked up on his thoughts: _She's seeing another guy_. Artemis shook her head as Mason's face turned from somber to confusion. "No, Mason, I am not."_

_"What-"_

_"Please, just listen to me," and the goddess spent the next half-hour telling Mason about Greek mythology, and how it's not mythology, but real. She spent another half-hour answering Mason's questions. At last, she asked, "What are you thinking?" though she all ready knew._

_Mason took a deep breath. "I need proof."_

_Artemis raised an eyebrow. "What would you like to see?" He shrugged. The goddess sighed impatiently, then started intently into Mason's eyes. In a flash, she showed Mason's past and all his possible futures. Artemis blinked, and crossed his legs. "Well?" she asked expectantly._

_Mason seemed to put it together. His eyes glazed over and he began murmuring, "Artemis... moon goddess... eternal virgin and maiden..." Mason blinked once, then looked at the goddess with a new vision. He asked, "Goddess, from what I know, you look down upon men as badly as Calypso, though you do not turn them to guinea pigs." He gave a half-hearted laugh. "What could you possibly want with me?"_

_She lifted her hand and lightly patted Mason's cheek. "Dear Mason," she murmured, "I know you are suffering. I wish to help you, for you are the only man I have seen in a century that seems worthy of my gifts." _Other than Percy Jackson_, she thought mildly. She smirked at the thought of him. _Brave boy.

_"What are you going to give me?" Mason asked wearily._

_Without another word, the goddess directed a moon beam onto a small patch of grass, more lively than those around it, greener and richer than the rest. As she concentrated, a moonlace flower sprouted from the soil, beautiful and vibrant. Reaching for her canister of ambrosia, she leaned over and poured the entire can onto the moonlace, then reached for her dagger and sliced her palm to let her divine blood drip down upon the flower, and soon it transformed from a plant into a baby girl. She glanced once at Mason, chuckling at his wide eyes and open mouth. Artemis stood and scooped the child into her arms, and breathed onto her face. The girl's eyes opened, and then she began to cry._

_Artemis bent down and picked up a smooth, round rock, and stared at it intently. Slowly it shifted into a shiny replica of a Hunter's bow and arrow, a tiny hole at the top of the bow. The goddess took her finger and traced it through the air, creating a slender chain, and threaded it through the bow's hole. She secured the necklace around the baby's neck._

_"Take care of her well, Mason Downing," Artemis ordered, handing the baby to the man. He took her gingerly. "Until she turns thirteen to go to the demigod camp, she must be kept in your care. As long as she is happy and in good health, she will bring you great happiness and your turmoils will be over."_

_Mason smiled. "Thank you, Artemis."_

_The goddess continued, warning, "She will not be easy, Mason. She may give you and your family trouble. If you are not careful, she will bring you more misery than fortune."_

_Mason nodded in understanding. "Of course. All children are a handful." He gave a nervous laugh._

_Artemis sighed and closed her eyes. Her body began to shimmer as she slowly revealed her true godly form. Her voice drifted into the wind, past Mason's ear, "Call her Astrid."_

_Mason shut his eyes at the last minute, and when he looked again, the moon goddess was gone. "Thank you, Artemis," he repeated. Then he stared down at the beautiful baby girl in his arms. She had rich, brown hair so dark it looked black and rosy cheeks and long lashed and full lips. Mason leaned down and kissed the child's forehead. "Astrid."_

"All right, Astrid, the bus is here, let's go," Sally said. She clumsily jumped off the bench and trotted over to the Camp Half-Blood window, using her crutches to help her get along easier. I glared at her back, hoping she picked up on my emotions with her little satyr powers. _I have eyes_, I thought nastily. _I'm not blind_.

I grabbed my small belongings: my ancient 2002 iPod and my black backpack full of mostly-black-with-color-splashes clothes. Of course, I wanted to wear my favorite clothes on the first day of camp: neon green clip-on overall straps, a black beanie, tank and thin sweater and white Converse. I was also wearing one black finger-less glove on my right hand, an stone carved into a bow-and-arrow necklace around my neck - my dad said my mom gave it to me when I was "born," but he won't tell me who my mom is, unfortunately. My long, dark brown hair was tied into one simple braid that lay limp over my shoulder. A Henna tattoo of the moon and storm clouds was plastered on my left hip, and it poked out from beneath my tank.

Climbing up the bus stairs, I received strange looks from the driver, and the other demigods all ready on the bus. Now, on the outside, it looked like the size of a regular, normal city bus. But on the inside, _damn_. The place looked like the inside of a private jet the size of a regular plane. There were tons of flat screen TVs, video game consoles. There were even _vending machines_. Talk about magic!

But no magic was strong or great enough to keep these half-bloods from throwing daggers at me. I mean, seriously. Did I smell bad? 'Cause I swear I that these teens were either throwing mental daggers at me, or just plain staring. _You know, it's rude to stare_, I thought harshly, raising an eyebrow at one twelve-year-old boy. He blinked once, then shuddered and turned his back to me. I snorted and continued walking, not daring to look at anyone in the face, and found an empty row near the middle-back of the super bus.

I set my stuff under my seat, stared out of the window, cranked up the volume to my iPod, and mouthed the words to Impossible by Shontelle. It's kind of an old song, but still good. I still felt every unidentified camper's eyes glued to my back. They were all around the same age - ten to sixteen at least - so I tried to calm myself. Normally I'd probably be stuffing one of these kid's heads out the window or in the bus restroom, but I really wanted to make a good impression before I found out who my mom was. The others would find out the whole "Who's your daddy?" or "Who's your mommy?" thing in a couple years or less.

As for me, I'm thirteen, but I still don't know whose daughter I am. I'm kind of hoping that'll change when I get to camp, hence the somewhat good behavior. But if I were to guess, I'd be stumped. I _am_ stumped. For one thing, I know I'm not Aphrodite's baby, because I'm not self-centered about my looks like her other kids, and the thought of make-up makes me want to puke. I don't think I'm Hephaestus's kid - I suck at making anything and everything that has to do with mechanics or art. Not Athena; I'm not all that bright. Two times two? Yeah, easy: four. I'm just talking about all that problem solving stuff I'd have to deal with as a daughter of Athena. Ugh, pass.

Hekate? Nah. Apollo? Maybe, I have a Hawaiian-style tan and I love the sun. Dionysus? Nada. Poseidon? No; I almost drowned last summer. I don't think dead ol' daddy would let me suffocate in his domain. Zeus? Don't think so. Hades? Ugh, the thought of dead people makes me sick, and being his daughter wouldn't make me feel all that better. Nemesis? Er... maybe. I like getting back at people, seeing that she's the goddess of revenge. Hermes? Perhaps. I _love_ anything that could get me in trouble. Examples: pranks, pickpocketing, raiding, fights, etc.

Obviously, I can't be Artemis's daughter. It's just not possible. She looks down on guys like Calypso does, only she doesn't turn them into guinea pigs. Why would she have a kid with one of them boys? And not to mention that she's sworn to be a maiden for, like,_ eternity_.

I sighed. Thinking hurts too much. Maybe I should take a nap, then- I shuddered. No, no naps on this bus. For all I know, one of these kids may be Hermes's, and I'd wake up with a bowl of warm water at my fingertips or whip cream plastered across my face. I could wait till I got to camp.

I fingered my ancient 2002 iPod and turned up the volume again, making my eardrums pound painfully. I quickly turned it back down. A couple seconds passed before I noticed that the bus had stopped, and more satyrs and demigods were boarding. I shifted uncomfortably, lifting my feet and placing them on the seat next to me, eyeing the kids who walked passed me, daring them to sit. No one dared. I looked back down at my MP3 and changed the song. An uneasy feeling overcame me, and I glanced back at up, having to swallow my surprised cry.

The first thing I saw were deep dark chocolate brown eyes. Then, in the next second, the image zoomed out and I saw that those eyes belonged to a face, belonging to a head, belonging to a human torso and body. Everything about this half-blood screamed "hot" and "heart breaker." Along with those chocolate eyes, he had tanned skin like mine, somewhat ruffled-spiky light brown hair hanging out from under his hoodie, and adorable dimples that you could see even if he wasn't smiling. He was lightly built; you could see his subtle muscles through his kind-of-tight white short-sleeved tee. He also wore denim jeans, his hands shoved into the pockets. I almost started drooling, right there in front of him. Instead, I raised my eyebrows at him.

His mouth quirked into a side smile. He asked, "Hey, can I sit here?"

I sighed dramatically and waved my hand to refer to the other seats. "There are other seats," I answered. My brain wanted to reject this gorgeous male model, but my heart started thumping quicker at the thought of him sitting next to me. _I have to make him convince me_, I thought. Then coughed to conceal my own surprise.

Before I could add anything, he replied, "Yeah, I know." I eyed him wearily, willing him to go away, but I think my heart pulled him in, because he stayed, looking at me intently.

"Sit down!" the driver barked, and he gunned the engine. I sighed again and threw my legs off the side, scooting over so he could have some room. He sat down, and I expected the ride to be silent. But he had other ideas.

He turned his torso to face me and leaned on his elbow. "I'm Blake Killingsworth." He held out his hand for a shake, and I stared between his hand and him, thinking, _No, I will not shake your hand. For all I know you're ready to kill me._ Yeah, paranoia does that to you. Uncomfortable, he drew his hand back in and rubbed it against his jeans. "What's your name?"

I laughed half-heartedly, feeling like I was in kindergarten again. Ah, kindergarten. Things were so much simpler then. The most drama that could happen was if someone stole your crayons, and that was _huge_. Now, the most drama that could happen was if someone died. Yeah, that's as gigantic as the world. "I'll let you know," I told Blake, and faced out the window again, my heart thrumming in my chest.

I heard Blake sneeze behind me, and then the rest of the ride was quiet between the two of us.

_An hour later..._

"Welcome to Camp Half-Blood!" the driver announced, and pulled on a lever that opened the doors at the front and the rear of the bus. I waited until everyone was gone, especially Blake, then left. Once I stepped off, I turned off my iPod and shoved it into my back pocket. I gathered and zipped up my sweatshirt, then flung the hood over my head. Slipping my hands into my pockets, I marched on behind the crowd toward the Big House.

During the walk, I tried to take in everything around me. We passed two hills covered in cabins where I'm guessing the campers slept according to their parentage; a large clearing with a huge campfire pit surrounded by large tables - the Dining Hall; training areas; etc. Finally we got to the Big House and everyone stood in clumps, trying to get inside. And being the loner that I am, I leaned against an olive tree alone, chewing gum. According to the gossip I picked up every now and then, this was where we were supposed to find out our parentage.

Leaning to the side I saw Blake talking to some guys about who knows what. I couldn't help but study him; he seemed respectful, staying quiet while another was talking. He stood straight, shoulders squared, but tense. If you just so happened to look, you could see his muscles coiled and strained, like he was waiting for a fight.

I shook my head, then rolled my eyes. Whatever. Blake is just a guy. Why should I care? I've met hundreds of guys in my thirteen years, and I've never been interested. In _any_ of them. What's going on?

"Yeah, he is pretty cute," someone said behind me. I spun around and clutched my bow-and-arrow necklace. For some reason, I always felt safe when I held it. I haven't taken it off, ever, since I was born, according to my dad.

I came face-to-face with a teenage girl with blue-ish green skin and a constantly changing colored hair. It took a second for it to click in my mind. I asked, "Are you a nymph?"

She shrugged. "I don't like labels. My name is Elsinore, or Elle." She held out her pinky finger. I stared at it, clueless. Elle laughed, and I looked back up at her hesitantly. "What's your name, half-blood?" She asked, smiling.

I immediately liked her.

I pulled down my hood, exposing my skull to sun rays, and crossed my arms. "Astrid Downing," I replied, and grinned.

Elle glided down to the grass and sat criss cross apple sauce. She looked up at me, her bright green eyes shining. "So what's his name?"

I looked into Blake's general direction. "Blake Killingsworth."

"'Kay, so why don't you go talk to him?"

"Not interested."

"Oh, you know you so are."

"Well, he isn't either," I argued.

Elle sighed dramatically. She said, "I'm friends with Sally-" I groaned, but Ell continued like I didn't interrupt her. "-and she was watching you. She saw how Blake kept trying to get your attention the whole ride here."

I looked away. "Satyrs can read emotions, you know," she added. I rolled my eyes and noticed the crowd had gotten small outside the front door. I quickly trotted toward the door. "Bye, Elle, see you later," I called.

"Bye, Astrid!" she yelled back, and then she disappeared. No magical music, no poof of air, no dramatic exit. She was just gone. I smiled after her, hoping she still saw me. Then, a couple minutes later, I stepped through the door into the Big House, ready to find my parentage.

_To be continued..._


End file.
